


Salt and Iron

by iwtv



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Dom Louis, M/M, Sub Lestat, coffee shop talk, louis takes lestat on a date to the scene of the crime, missing scene from Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis, needy Lestat, there's been a murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9360809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: When I looked into those green eyes, I saw only Louis, and the words echoing in my mind where Louis's words."I know what you need," he said. "You need one person who is always on your side. Well, I'm ready to be that one now."~From The Realms of Atlantis





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into VC fanfiction. This works just fine (I think) as a stand-alone, but for those who have read "Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis" this is a missing scene from early on in the story and takes place right after Lestat first meets up with Louis in New Orleans.
> 
> Feedback insanely appreciated :)

The mug had grown cold.

A few minutes ago I had hated the feeling of diminishing warmth, equating it with my own damnable loneliness. Now I dismissed it. Louis was here and Louis was going to come with me to France. He’d wooed me, quoted the Book of Ruth to me and had given me the offer of his companionship.

He’d told me he knew what I needed.

Now, as he admitted to feeling a small amount of excitement at the prospect of going to Court, I realized we had spent half the night talking about me and nothing of him.

“Enough about me,” I said at last with a flick of my wrist. “I want to hear about you. What have you been up to, as they say?”

His jade eyes were smiling at me with the old amusement when I acknowledged my own self-centeredness. I was glad he couldn’t hear my thoughts about how brilliant his eyes lit up his face.

“Not much to tell, I’m afraid.”

“You say that every time,” I gently admonished.

His gaze fell to the porcelain mug in front of me. Just then the waitress returned and Louis ordered my café au lait. The waitress's gaze lingered on Louis a few seconds too long and I realized he was using his new gifts again; that memorizing stare, the charisma it seemed to inspire.

“There is something,” he said when she left. “Last month I was walking along the river, where the brush grows thick and where people don’t tread, you know, what’s left of the wilderness there.”

I nodded. Between the two of us we had probably traversed most of the entire length of The Mississippi in New Orleans.

“I wasn’t hunting,” he continued. “Just watching, observing. The hillside had risen up around me, with one exception of the older, run-down suburbs on the other side. I heard a scream coming from there. It was quickly cut off, rather unnaturally. An act of violence, I decided. I was curious so I honed in and heard more distressed sounds; muffled cries, heavy breathing. When I located the house I could sense their heartbeats, two of them, both racing. I waited, not wanting to involve myself. I wasn’t in the mood.”

“You wanted an easy meal,” I teased morbidly, wrapping my hands around the cold mug. Ghost of a smile on his lips, my Louis’ lips.

“I was simply curious,” he replied truthfully. “So I waited until I heard only one heartbeat. I watched as a woman came out, blood on her hands and looking the way they always look.”

I nodded again, acknowledging 'the way.' One of the constants of life was the behavior of murderers, of those who had enough morals to know when they had sinned. Louis continued.

“I entered the house, surprised to find it wasn’t the least bit dilapidated as I had guessed from the exterior. No, instead it was well furnished and clean. Nothing fancy, middle class I’d say. But someone had been living in it. I found the someone dead on the living room floor, stabbed. Another woman. Mid 30s probably. But what interested me more was the house. I looked around and surmised she was single but dated a lot. There was one of those backgrounds-ah,what do you call it- a wallpaper on her computer.It was a photo of her murderer, the exact same woman I'd seen.A man was between them in the photo. They both looked rather taken with him.”

I snorted.

“A jealousy killing then.”

Louis shrugged. “Perhaps. There was nothing else more incriminating than that. I disposed of the body and cleaned the floor.”

“What on earth for?”

He paused, looking away from me almost shyly.

“I wanted to show it to you,” he said. “The house. I’ve kept it tidy.”

So Louis had been thinking about me. And recently. I hid my immediate pleasure at this news.

“Well my timing is quite good then,” I offered instead.

I knew Louis was always glad to see me, but it was perhaps only once every 50 years his excitement was palpable to me. I followed him eagerly to this new roost of his. After tipping our waitress we flew a short distance across town and landed in the yard of the aforementioned house. The facade was certainly a sad sight, with mostly peeling and shoddy paint and enough overgrown weeds and shrubs to call it a garden. The front porch sagged and was covered with all manner of random debris.

Yet when we entered I saw Louis had been right. The inside was a shock to the senses after seeing the outside.

It was well lit (I could tell the bulbs were those new LED bulbs everyone used), and everywhere there was modern, even new, furniture and appliances. After a very quick scan of the place I put the pieces together.

"The woman wanted to hide," I said. "She chose this place so no one would think to look for her here."

Louis nodded as we ascended the stairs to the darkened second floor. It was much the same as the first, with an organized, modern look, lived in but tidy. One bedroom was distinctly a woman's, but there was a second bedroom that was more gender neutral. For guests, I assumed. We stepped inside it.

"I've not really been up here," Louis said absently. He tinkered with a dusty origami swan on a desktop. It was not like Louis to tinker or fidget at all. He stopped almost as soon as I had noticed.

I felt a warm prickle on my neck, but it was not Amel. It was a different sort of prickle. At length I turned to Louis.

"It's a very human sign of nervousness," I said. "Fidgeting, that is."

He turned those green eyes to me—pale in this lighting but still beautiful—and looked me up and down, then turned and stared out the window blinds.

"If you think I’m nervous it's because I choose to show you," he replied calmly.

I had been wondering—perhaps even worried—about Amel for several nights. I had scarcely thought about him tonight. I had wanted him to see Louis through my eyes, but now I was glad for his absence. I decided to cut to the chase.

"Louis, why are we here?"

Louis breathed in deeply (another thing he had no need to do) and exhaled. I watched his chest rise and fall through the fabric of the cream-colored shirt he wore, realizing how perfectly it clung to him, outlining his body without looking too small.

"I've missed you," he said softly.

And suddenly I knew everything: why he had been excited to see me, why he had pledged himself to this journey with me, why he had brought me here. I approached him with preternatural speed, standing in front of him in the blink of an eye. He didn't blink. I felt quite...nervous.

"You said you knew what I needed," I said. My voice was ridiculously quiet. "What did you mean, my darling Louis?"

I raised a thumb to stroke his cheek, testing. He leaned into it, eyes momentarily closing. Ah, yes.

"You need me," he answered. His voice was not soft. It was firm and final and it sent a hot chill through me. It had been so long...

"It has," he said. I realized with a start I'd spoken out loud. Too late to deny this admission of longing, of intimacy so long deprived. His hands were already on my shoulders, moving up to cup my face. I tensed, stiffened.

"Louis..."

Before I could say anything more he kissed me. I instantly melted under the touch of his lips. We kissed all the time, but not like this. He deepened it and I allowed it, letting his tongue enter my mouth and explore.The sudden intimacy was almost a shock to my senses, so long without this kind of touch. I fed from the throbbing veins of mortals, seduced them. I had even coupled with them in the recent past, but the touch of one from The Blood, ah, it was indescribably different-and far more erotic.

My hands came up first to Louis’ waist, slipping under the black blazer he wore so that only the thin fabric of his shirt separated his skin from mine. Then further up my hands wondered as we kissed, until they were wondering the texture of his back, feeling each and every muscle’s minute movement, like a sensuous dance as his neck moved to so his lips could devour more of me.

We could not produce heat the way mortals could, but I felt the air grow hotter around me all the same.

“Mon Dieu,” I huffed out as I grew more passionate, bending to tease my teeth against Louis’ neck, tasting the skin that was soft and rock hard at the same time, skin that I could puncture with only the slightest pressure if I so chose. Sink my sharp teeth right in and taste what was to me the most sacred of founts.

It was Louis who pushed us towards the bed. My heart sang with an anticipation I had dearly missed. He was quite serious about this.

“Louis, “ I muttered, once. Twice. He had me sitting on the bed, practically bending over backwards, when he stopped and grinned at me.

“Why are you suddenly a parrot?” he asked.

“Because I love the sound of your name rolling off my lips,” I said without a thought.

He gave a delighted laugh, sharp canines like little pearls in his mouth. I groaned at the sight of them and what they could do. He pushed up against me, wiggling himself in between my legs. I opened them for him and pulled him close as we kissed some more. I felt his erection flush against my own cock. He kept teasing my neck, sucking and leaving love marks that sent hot chills down my spine.

I pulled him down on top of me by the collar of his shirt. Another small laugh, this time deep and full of lust. I held his face between my palms and saw the same written on his face, his green cat-like eyes heavy, lips red and wet. I groaned again. He unbuttoned my shirt and explored my chest and stomach with his tongue, nipping and sucking over my nipples while I writhed helplessly under him. I was extremely vulnerable, moreso with him than I let myself be with any other soul living or dead, so I felt obligated to let him know.

“I have killed men like this,” I breathed out, raking my fingers through his soft chestnut hair as his fingers worked open my pants. “I’ve seduced strong, masculine men, much more masculine than you my dear, and have snapped their necks just like this,” I said. Louis looked up at me through thick eyelashes, devilish grin on his lips.

“I could shove you across this room,” I continued, “with a flick of my wrist, have you pinned up against the wall with no escape and hold you there all night long.”

“Is that supposed to frighten me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not. Just a reminder. Of what I can do.”

He turned serious, brows furrowing, and I whimpered. He sat back on his haunches, straddling me.

“I know what you are capable of, perhaps better than most. I also know you would rather die than harm me. You needn’t ever worry I will forget the former or ever suspect the latter.”

So blunt, so straightforward was my Louis. And so damnably right. I sighed heavily, sitting up and stripping off my shirt entirely, then falling back on the bed. I raised my arms above my head.

“I surrender to you then. Utterly.”

Now it was Louis who groaned in the back of his throat. He grinded down against me so that our cocks rubbed together. I tore off his belt and unzipped his fly, shoving his pants down so I could reach behind and grab his ass, two perfectly white and round globes that fit into my hands. He hummed in his throat. Still grinding into me he pulled out his cock. I felt hot all over, my mouth dry as he pulled along his length.

“Fuck Louis, please,” I said. God, how I wished I could have said it telepathically instead of voicing it out loud. So vulnerable.

But Louis clearly enjoyed my weakness. Biting down on his bottom lip, he leaned forward and licked the shell of my ear, whispering, “What do you need?”

“You know what I need.” I threaded my fingers through his hair and pulled.

“Say it.”

“Damn you.”

“Say. It.”

“I want you to fuck me. Fuck me, please.”

It wasn’t quite begging, and damn him if he made me say it again.

But Louis seemed satisfied with that. He took off his pants and I shed the rest of my own clothing. I marveled at his body, at the embodiment of perfection the Dark Gift had made him. I could see each and every tiny contour of his muscles, of his curves and the blue veins that ran their perfect circuit underneath his skin. I could hear the blood inside him, pumping. I could see it throbbing through his cock, filling him out and making him into a vampiric god of lust before my eyes.

I had scarcely noticed I was pulling on my own cock as I drank him in, lost to my own voyeurism. His eyes watched me just as intently.

“A moment,” he said, and then vanished the next instant. Lubricant, I guessed. A quick trip to his own abode, there and back again, stark-ass naked, and no one would see a thing.

I was chuckling over it when he returned. He shrugged, holding up the small bottle. It was KY brand. I smirked.

“The good stuff,” I said.

He wasted no time in coating his fingers and working them inside me. The first time his finger slid in I bucked up and moaned, amazed at my own sensitivity.

“Mmm, look at you,” Louis said. He wiggled his finger and I moaned again.

“Yes, more,” I urged. It felt good, having him penetrate me in this way, not with his mind when we fell victim to our endless philosophical discussions but physically, with his very being. I let this final barrier that separated us crumble. I let myself enjoy the sight of him as he watched me, unabashed, and let his other hand wonder over the plains of my stomach. He thumbed my nipples until they were hard buds. I closed my eyes and let my other senses take over. He pushed in a second and third finger. I was now quite loose and wet. I bucked and writhed my hips, trying to fuck down over the added girth that was so sweet yet not enough. He shifted so he could drape his body over mine, kissing my jaw and shoulder. My mind, which was always a whirlwind of thoughts, was suddenly calmed and dimmed so that I felt my fledgling’s manipulations all the more.

When the moment came for Louis to line his cock up I spread my legs and tried not to tense up, acutely aware of long it had been. Yet we were immortals, I reminded myself. The innate anxiety over sex was a mortal’s worries, not mine.

Louis teased my hole with the plump head of his slickened cock, then plunged in.

“Oh god!” I exclaimed. The feel of Louis’ cock squeezing up against me as he slid home was indescribable for the first few seconds. As always, the emotion it caused overwhelmed me at first. Louis was the same. He was halfway in when he paused and looked at me, a whimper escaping his lips. We kissed tenderly and I felt him relax over me, each and every muscle that touched my arms, my legs, my chest, easing. I bucked up into him when I was ready. He instantly pushed all the way in and we began in earnest.

We melded into one another, finding a rhythm and keeping it for as long as we could, savoring skin gliding over skin.

And for once, neither words nor telepathy were needed to convey our love for one another, just the hot and slick feel of our bodies colliding. So primitive. So wonderful in its simplicity.

He was remembering certain things, I realized. He pivoted and rolled his hips, sped up his cock so it was slamming into me and then slowed down suddenly so that I was reduced into a writhing mess of flesh, crying out for more, more, always more.

And when we were both quaking for that which could not be attained by mortal means, Louis asked me.

“I want to taste you so badly,” he confessed in a husky and wrecked voice. I hummed and carded my fingers through his hair, gave him sloppy half kisses over his eyelids.

Yes,” I said.

There is no way to really prepare for the bite of another vampire, no more than for mortals to prepare for that first sexual penetration or that first hit of heroin. His face disappeared into my neck and a second later I gasped--truly gasped--as his fangs slid through my skin. He pulled the blood from me hard and fast and I felt the swoon come rushing in. There was the distinct sensation of being given and taken from simultaneously; Louis’s cock thrust up into me while he drained the crimson tide of my body out of me. I could no longer stifle my moans and let them escape carelessly past my lips. I hugged him to me, clawing his back. He moaned and bit deeper, thrusted harder. I had my legs wrapped around him. I realized then what I had not allowed myself to think about during my journey overseas to see him. I had wanted him to devour me in this way, had wanted it for so very long.

Sometimes vampires like to imagine our needs supersede a mortal’s, that simply because we can function for long periods of time without things like food or touch, we don’t need it.

Wrong.

I moaned and hissed, gripped Louis to me as though to never let him go, even as the swoon threatened to render me a rag doll without sense. I knew he was close to release; the muscles and tendons and pull of his own blood told me so. Again, all of this without reading his mind.

“Come for me Louis,” I heard myself whisper next to his ear, nipping it. “Please, come inside me.”

And as if on my command he did, spilling his seed deep inside me, his body shuddering. He released his grip on my neck with a gasp. I looked at him as he pulled away. His mouth was coated lightly with my blood, very sloppy for him. It almost made me swoon all over again. His immortal teeth were bloody also, and those green eyes were nearly black but full of heat.

He kissed me hard, letting me lick my blood from him. I pushed my hips up into his stomach, trying to gain friction against my cock, which ached.

He slinked his way down my body, raking his chestnut hair back, and I saw what he meant to do and moaned again. He took hold of the base of my cock and slid his mouth over it.

I fisted the sheets of the bed and bit my lower lip until I tasted blood. He worked me quick, understanding my need. I bucked up hard, knowing he was ready to take it. I started speaking in French to him, our old language. No matter how many centuries passed the beauty of it never faded and I would always prefer it over English.

Language of lovers, indeed.

At last I felt my balls pull tight, my cock throbbing as waves of heat rolled over the rest of me. I came with a cry, spilling into Louis’ mouth. I lifted my head to watch him suck and lick over my cockhead as the come dripped down my shaft. His eyes flashed up to mine and with preternatural speed his face was an inch from mine. He kissed me again and the salt-iron taste that now mixed together was delectable to my pallet, filling me more than any mortal blood alone could.

We rubbed against one another until I was completely spent and the swoon had gone. Then Louis lay down beside me on the bed. We said nothing for long minutes. I was quite pleasant to have nothing to think about, to simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, until gradually the noise of the world returned to my senses, bit by bit.

When I did turn my head to look at him Louis was already looking at me. His face was its usual state of calm but his eyes were like two fiery emeralds, so alive they would have frightened any mortal who saw them.

“Thank you,” he said.

I sat up on my elbows and gave him a perplexed look.

“For what?”

“You know. Just…thank you.”

“Ah Louis. Must you always be so full of yourself? There’s no need to thank me. You know this.”

“I do. But I am quite full of myself, though I’m much more full of *you*.”

His smile was positively impish. He licked his lips and I whimpered.

“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered, not bothering to hide my own smile.

We cleaned ourselves and got dressed. I had no problem with leaving the bed its current state of disarray, but Louis of course had to straighten it until it was as though no one had touched it.

We left the house and returned to the banks of the Mississippi, picking up where we had left off on our walk. The time was drawing near for us to speak of important matters, of Amel and the Court and the new supposed threat that had arisen. Yet I stubbornly ignored these things for another half hour. I wanted to bask in Louis’ company, just the two of us. I wanted to listen to the bits of chatter here and there he spoke, to hear about what events had been going on in our precious New Orleans I had missed.

The smell of lavender and jasmine was strong when at last it was he who stopped and turned to me.

“We should go,” he said.

“I know. But I don’t want to. I want to spend another lifetime in New Orleans again. I’m ready. Just the two of us again.”

He flashed me a trademark melancholy smile, the one that always made my heart ache.

“That would be both a blessing and a curse, as they say,” he replied softly.

“To hell with curses,” I said, but I knew he was right. Our memories were as old as we were, and there were so, so many memories we shared of his place. So much tragedy. All the old emotions would rise up like, well, like the undead, ready to devour us. Many ghosts lived here, both real and imaginary.

A chill passed over me. I stopped the train of thought before it took hold. Louis put his arm around me.

“Come then. Let us away. We will go to your birthplace and you will parade me around our old friends as you like to do and we will talk about the Core and many other things.”

I smiled. Just then I felt the warm prickle return to the base of my neck. I resisted the urge to raise my fingers to it. Instead I looked at Louis. I felt Amel keenly. I knew he was seeing Louis through my eyes and this made me suddenly very happy—and even a little jealous. Did Amel know what we had just shared? Or had he been too focused on whatever else he had been interested in to notice? I hid these thoughts from him. I was glad he was here now—I could feel his happiness at seeing Louis like a thrum vibrating through me—but for reasons I did not want to dwell on I didn’t want him to know of our intimacy.

Amel gave no indication one way or another, so I simply mentioned his presence to Louis. We walked for a few more minutes, the two (or three) of us, and I basked in the moment. I had no idea what would transpire at Court and was excited. Yet I also felt this was the end of the climb on the roller coaster, that we were getting ready to take the plummet off into parts unknown. I wanted to run from it all as much as I secretly craved it. Amel thrummed again. I inhaled the scent of the river and the night flowers and Louis next to me. Then we took flight, ready for whatever the Savage Garden would reveal to us next.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I don't know how adult fanfic is treated in this fandom in regards to vampire biology and m/m, so I might have bent some of the rules? Or broken them completely? ;) Had to be done. :)


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